Love Conquers
by Dimcairien
Summary: Sequel to Love Prevails. Second story in Attributes of Love series. This story follows Mary and Matthew with their ups and down of married life. From libel in a newspaper to heart-wrenching events to peaceful moments, the love that Mary and Matthew began to build will continue to build them and help them to conquer life's trials.
1. A Libelous Incident

_**A/N Here's the second part of the Attributes of Love series. I'm planning on having this story covering the first couple of years of Matthew and Mary's marriage, but we'll see what actually happens as Love Prevails took many twists I wasn't expecting. I can probably expect the same from this story.**_

It was hard to believe that it had been four months since the accident that had taken away his ability to walk. Four long months of pain, anger, and depression. For a brief time he had had the hope of walking again, but that small, fleeting hope had been crushed with his recent visit to Doctor Cotes in London. Matthew was now as healed as he'd ever be, well, Doctor Clarkson had told him that at some point in the near future he'd be able to transfer himself from bed to chair and vice versa. Matthew hoped that that day was near at hand because it would mean one more thing that he could do without assistance. Gradually that list was becoming longer, but it would forever be too short for Matthew's tastes. Gone forever were the days of him simply doing what he wanted.

But, despite all the difficulties of the past four months, the past two weeks had been among the best of his life. It was two weeks to the day that he and Mary had exchanged their vows and since that day, he felt like a different man. He had felt more complete than he ever had, even before the war.

Of course, the wedding night had not been what either of them had expected their wedding night to be like years previously. However, despite the difficulties, it had still been wonderful. They had lain together in the large bed in their new suite of rooms and done what only a husband and wife should do. For the first time, they explored each other and relished the feel of the other. That night had been the best night of either of their lives as they got to know one another in a different way.

They soon found a new routine as a married couple, which wasn't overly different from their previous routine, but there was an aspect of closeness that hadn't been there before. No longer were they wondering if there was still love between them. Gentle caresses and kisses were now a part of their daily lives, though they took care to try and not perform such actions in front of the family.

But, their wedding bliss was marred by the papers and there was no way to escape. They had talked about going abroad for their honeymoon, but with the destruction (and Matthew's adamantness against it), going to the Continent was out of the question. America had also been mentioned, but it was too close to Christmas for the trip to be worth it. Plus, Matthew wasn't yet strong enough for such a journey. So, they were still at Downton when the newspaper arrived.

Matthew had arrived in the breakfast room without his wife, which was an oddity for them, but the moment he saw the headlines, he was extremely grateful Mary wasn't with him.

"Robert," Matthew said quietly. "Look." He pushed the morning paper over to where his father-in-law sat drinking his tea. Simultaneously he tried to avoid looking at Sybil, Edith, or Carson, all of whom would be horrified at the publication. Even though Edith had been the one to send in the letter, he knew that her apology to her sister on the wedding had been genuine and that she regretted her actions.

Robert nearly spilled his cup of tea when he saw the headline and article. Thankfully, it wasn't splashed across the front page, but it was still in the paper and that was enough.

**EARL'S DAUGHTER BEDDED TURKISH DIPLOMAT**

But, the headline was nothing compared to what he saw as he continued to read.

_Lady Mary Crawley, a woman once thought of as among the best of society, has been discovered to be among the lowest of the low. It is a fact that one evening a few years ago, she took a lover, a Turkish diplomat, to her bed. Now, such an event would be a scandal on its own for a young, unmarried, earl's daughter, but that is not all. No, what truly makes the scandal delicious is that it was discovered the Turkish diplomat died in her bed._

_It was rumoured to be of natural causes, but we all know that poison is a woman's weapon. The conclusions of such an incident will be left up to the reader._

_It is well known that Lady Mary has just recently married her distant cousin, and father's heir. Her husband is a veteran and is permanently disabled. The papers that documented the wedding say that they married for love, but, knowing the dire situation, what is to prevent the only reason of their matrimony to allow Lady Mary to gain a title before her true nature was revealed. After all, that was the only thing to be gained considering the nature of her husband's injury._

_In conclusion, whilst it may seem that Lady Mary Josephine Crawley is an upright woman, that appearance is only to be noted on the outside. Inside, she is a lustful, conniving woman._

"That, that …" fumed Matthew, struggling to find a word that could accurately describe Carlisle, but failing to find one that was appropriate to voice. Oh, he could think of several names, but none of them would have been proper to utter, even though they were the perfect description.

"Has Mary seen this yet?" Robert asked in a hushed voice as he looked up at Matthew.

"I don't think so," replied Matthew. "She never looks at the paper until she's in the library. I should probably go warn her."

"Yes," Robert agreed, wondering what was to become of his daughter now that her scandal had at last been published. He hoped that those who were her true friends would stand by her. He let out a sigh and shook his head. This was supposed to be a time of wedded bliss for the couple, not a time marred by scandal. He could only hope that what Matthew had said when he proposed would prove true: the fact that Mary had made an honourable match would abate the blow. But, the stab that Carlisle took at them in the article just might cause some problems.

Matthew wheeled himself as quickly as he could down the hall and nearly crashed into Anna as she came out of the bedroom.

"Mr Crawley, pardon me," she said in a fluster as she quickly curtseyed.

"It's quite alright, Anna," Matthew assured. "Has Mary seen the morning paper yet?"

"No, sir," Anna replied. "is there something in it you wish her to see?"

"No, rather, this something I wish her not to," sighed Matthew and then quickly added, "Carlisle carried through with his threat."

"Oh," Anna said wide-mouthed. "I suppose I should go pack then. Mr Carson will throw me out when he discovers my role in the story."

"There's no need for that, Anna," said Matthew calmly before Anna could leave. "Neither your name, nor Lady Grantham's name were mentioned. I doubt he even knew of your involvement."

Anna nodded in relief and moved out of the way to allow Matthew entrance to the room.

"Matthew!" said a surprised Mary, as she put down her teacup. Then, she saw the look on his face. It could only mean that something dreadful had happened. It couldn't have been a breakdown, as he wouldn't have come to her, but it was bad, whatever it was. "What?"

"Carlisle published," Matthew said simply. There was no need to say anything else at all.

"Oh, God," Mary said worriedly. "How bad is it?" She didn't dare voice that she had hoped he wouldn't publish as it had already been two weeks since the wedding, but she shouldn't have allowed that small hope to voice itself.

"Quite bad," answered Matthew with a wince. "Besides staring quite blankly about, well, what happened, he also implied you might had poisoned Pamuk. He also stated that the only reason we got married was to ensure yourself of a title before the scandal got loose."

Mary moved the breakfast table to the other side of the bed and got up, not bothering to wrap herself in her dressing gown. "He wouldn't!" she cried. "Surely he wouldn't go so far as to accuse me of killing him!" She didn't care about the latter part of Matthew's statement as there was a partial truth, but only partially. She would have married Matthew even if he was simply a middle-class lawyer.

"He did," Matthew sighed. "We can only pray that because it has been almost six years, the gossip will die down quickly. The world is a different place from what it was in 1913 and because of the war, a story like this won't be as powerful as it would have been."

Mary nodded slowly. "I'm afraid about what will happen," she said in a low voice. "I don't care what people think in London anymore, but I do care about what the tenants and villagers think of me." Back when the incident had first happened, Mary knew that she put too much in store when it came to her reputation. Now, she didn't care what people who were practically strangers cared. All she cared about was the way those in the surrounding areas thought of her. After all, a Countess needed to have earned a certain level of respect.

"I'm certain everything will work out fine in the end," Matthew said gently. "We will pull through this together. I'll always be here for you. Don't forget that."

"Oh, Matthew," Mary said with a long sigh as she sat down on a nearby chair and buried her face in his lap. "I'm so worried about what is going to happen: to Papa, Mama, Edith, and especially Sybil. I've ruined my family, Matthew. I've ruined my family's name and with it, my sisters' chances at a good marriage."

Matthew gently squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry, darling," he said calmly. "It won't help any. Just hold your head high and bear the storm. And I'm certain that you haven't ruined the family. Your parents' reputation is far too noble to be destroyed by a simple article in a newspaper. As for Edith and Sybil, they'll find a way. I doubt Sybil cares who she marries and Edith will figure something out. All three of you girls are as stubborn as they come"

Mary nodded in understanding and said, "That may be right, but it's still a blow. And you know I'll try to keep my head high. I just …"

"What?" asked Matthew calmly.

"Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't goaded Edith so much, if she wouldn't have sent that letter," Mary finished.

"Dear, please, don't blame yourself," said Matthew. "I know that probably sounds hypocritical coming from me, but this event of your past is not your fault." Matthew didn't even know how many times someone had told him that it wasn't his fault that William had died, that he was injured, or that so many men in his company had been killed. "You have to believe that, Mary."

Mary sat up and gently swatted him on the shoulder as she briefly let down her composure to allow herself a small smile. "Oh, Matthew," she sighed. "I know you're right, but it's going to be so difficult. How did Papa take the news? Does he know yet?"

"Your father knows," Matthew replied softly. "And he took it as well as can be expected. He's worried about you and I'm certain the same will be said about the rest of your family. And Mary, you were, and still are, there for me during my … my moments of … of hopelessness. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for you during the darkest time of my life. Let me be there for you during this trial of yours." He didn't care how many times and how many variations were needed to make his point; he would make Mary see that she wasn't alone. It was strange being on this side of a time of need: being the one who gave the comfort rather than the comforted. There wasn't much he could give his wife, but he knew that he could give her a listening ear and a comforting shoulder to lean on.

"Yes," answered Mary. "Yes, I need and I want you to be with me." She stood up and said, "I ought to get dressed. Then, I suppose, we can figure out what we are to do."

"Shall I leave you?" inquired Matthew.

"That would be best," Mary admitted. Truthfully, she wanted her husband to stay with her, but she knew that Anna would feel uncomfortable with Matthew in the room. "I'll join you in the small library when I'm ready."

"Very well, dear," said Matthew as he carefully made his way towards the door. Mary opened it and he made his way out of the room.

Anna presently arrived and soon she was helping Mary get into a simple deep blue dress. "Anna, did you hear the news?" Mary asked while the maid was lacing the corset.

"Yes, milady," Anna replied. "Mr Crawley told me right before coming into your room. And Mr Carson mentioned it when I was downstairs just a few minutes ago."

"How did Carson take the news?"

"Quite badly, milady," said Anna, reaching for the dress now that the corset was done. "He was horrified that someone could say such ghastly things about you. I'd like to think he would enjoy some choice words with Sir Richard Carlisle."

Mary chuckled ever so slightly at the idea of mild-mannered Carson sharing some words with Carlisle. Such an image was amusing, even though the chances of it were rather slim. Even Carson, no matter how much he hated the man, would be able to say anything, directly at any rate. He had told her he didn't much like the man and Anna's report of Carlisle asking her to spy on her certainly played a role in Carson's disapproval. Looking back, Mary was quite proud of Carson's morals and was immensely grateful that she was out of any relationship with Carlisle, even though it very easily could have costed her her reputation.

Before too much longer, she was ready for the day, or as ready as circumstances would allow, and she made her way down to the library where Matthew and Sybil were already gathered.

"Mary," Sybil said in a low voice, "You heard about the paper this morning, correct?"

Mary nodded mutely. "Does the entire family know?" she asked.

"Most likely," Sybil answered. "Papa went to go and break the news to Mama and Edith went into the village to let Granny and Cousin Isobel know as well."

With a sigh, Mary sank into the nearest chair. Matthew made his way across the room to his wife and situated his chair next to her. Sybil sat down on the other side of her sister and the threesome stayed that way for several minutes. Then Robert and Cora entered the room, shortly followed by Edith, Isobel, and Violet.

"What are we to do?" inquired Violet once everyone was in the room. "We simply can't allow that man to print such libel without consequences."

"It isn't libel, Granny," Mary said painfully. "It's the truth, well, parts of it are. Carlisle certainly embellished parts of it. I assure you that I had no intentions of murdering anyone nor did I marry Matthew to gain a title. All of you can attest that it was for love and protection: two very noble reasons."

"That may be true, but it still doesn't mean he can simply get away with it," stated Violet. "Matthew, you're a solicitor, surely you know if there's something that can be done."

"There isn't anything that can be done about the parts of the article that are true," Matthew answered rather slowly, "but, if we can prove that Pamuk died naturally and that Mary didn't marry for a title, the story will lose some of its power. If parts are proven to be libel, people might just suspect that the rest of it is libel as well."

"How do we do this?" asked Robert.

"I don't know," Matthew answered. "I've been out of the law firm for four years and my specialty is industrial law. However, there might be someone who still specializes in this type of law at Harvell and Carters. I'll send the firm a note and see what can be done."

"Thank you, Matthew," Cora said in a low tone. "And Mary, remember that we're here for you. That fiend may have published, but he won't destroy our family."

"I hope you're speaking the truth, Mama," sighed Mary.

As the family began to leave the library, Edith came up to where Mary was seated and whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't know how far my actions would go. If you want to take back your forgiveness, you can. And I assure you, that there wasn't anything to do with poison in my letter."

"Edith," Mary said, "I know your apology at my wedding was sincere and I cannot take my forgiveness back. And I know you wouldn't have expanded the situation in the letter. Either Vera Bates did it or Carlisle is a bigger problem than I thought."

"I would suspect it to be the latter," replied Edith and she took her leave.

Now, it was only Mary, Matthew, Sybil, and Isobel in the room.

"Son, do you think it's best to take legal action?" wondered Isobel.

"Considering parts of the the article are libel, yes," Matthew answered firmly. "If it can be proven, there will be some charges that can be made against Carlisle. It's going to be treading on eggshells as the libel is interwoven with the truth, but I'm certain something can be done."

"We all hope so," Sybil said quietly as she got up to leave. "And Mama's right, we'll stick together as a family until this passes. It's always easier to weather a storm as a group than individually."

Once Sybil had left, Mary turned towards her husband. "Do you honestly think that will work?" she asked. "The rumours have been circulating London for years, ever since it happened. Trying to prove that parts of it are libel will surely cause the sparks to ignite, if they haven't already."

"It's our only chance darling," said Matthew. "And the sooner we try to quench the flame, the better."

Mary sighed and slowly nodded. She didn't want to go through what was about to happen, but it was going to happen, whether she wanted it or not. Matthew reached across and squeezed her elbow in a comforting manner. And then she knew. Mary knew that whatever was about to happen, she had her husband and family on her side. They would stand by her, even if all their reputations fell down. Was that the true meaning of family? Did the love that came with a family prevail and eventually conquer all trials? If it did, Mary knew that there would always be someone she could turn to.

* * *

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. I hope your vacation has gone well. I have lots of plans for Mary and Matthew in their married life, some of them are happy and others aren't. But don't worry, there shouldn't be very many more overly depressing scenes.**_


	2. Christmas Preparations

_**A/N It's strange writing a Christmas chapter in the middle of the summer. Sorry it's Christmas in August instead of Christmas in July :D. There are a few backflashes in this chapter. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't get confused. **__**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

"Are you ready for Christmas?" Mary asked Matthew one morning a few days later while they were in the library. She hadn't left Downton since the scandal had come out and her one trip down to the village had been met with a combination of strange and sympathetic glances. It was a relief that no one had been hostile, but it certainly had been a different reception than what she had been used to. Matthew had sent a note to his old firm regarding the libel charge, but had yet to hear back. Of course, the holidays would play a role in a delay, but the both of them were starting to wonder if something had gone amiss. Neither of them dared to voice this concern yet as there hasn't been a sufficient increment of time to amount to real worry.

"It's Christmastime already?" he asked in slight surprise as he looked up from his book. Part of the surprise had been from the fact that he hasn't celebrated Christmas in three years. His first Christmas on the front had involved the truce and that had been the last Christmas that resembled anything close to a proper one.

"Haven't you noticed the hustle and bustle of the staff?" Mary inquired. "The place is practically bursting with the pre-Christmas activity. We can have a proper Christmas again, now that the war is over." _Well, an almost proper Christmas_, Mary mentally corrected herself. Naturally, things would be different, but it wouldn't be as forlorn as the four war Christmases had been. Now, there truly was something to celebrate in addition to their Saviour's birth. The war had been won.

"The rationing will still be continuing and many families are forever missing a loved one," Matthew pointed out gently, even though he was certain Mary already knew these pieces of information. "The war may be over, but its effects aren't. They'll always be around." One only had to glance around to see the after-effects of the war. Several generations had been scared: both men, women, and even children. Some of them were physical and some mental or emotional, but everyone who was old enough to remember the terror of the war had been scarred.

"I know," Mary sighed. "I do pray that the world will recover, and soon. And for a disaster like this to never touch the world again." The previous war had been given the name 'The War to End All Wars' by the American president and she hoped it would be just that.

"We all do," Matthew said gently. He wheeled closer to where Mary was sitting on the sofa. "And someday it will be, just not soon. As for your last worry, I highly doubt a war of such a grand scale will occur again. Once the peace negotiations are fully in place and the treaty signed, such a repetition will surely be impossible." The next part of his thoughts he didn't dare say out loud._ I'll never recover,_ he thought rather darkly. _Not in the way I wish to recover at any rate_. Yet again, he wished that he could simply sit on a sofa next to his wife like a normal person. He was always hampered in some way or another with every single activity he did.

"So, what do you want for Christmas?" she asked, trying to change the conversation. It was rather too dark for a Christmastime discussion.

Matthew looked down rather sullenly. "The one thing I want is the one thing I know I'll never get," he mumbled rather angrily, then immediately regretted what he had said. He was finally coming to truly believe what his family had been telling him for four months: he was blessed to have survived the war with a whole mind. The belief, which for so long had only been in his head, had made its way to his heart and at last, he had been able to accept his lot in life. He knew that it was only because of his wife standing by him that this had been possible. But, his loss of ability was still a grievance that was nearly always in the front of his mind as he was constantly confronted with his inabilities.

Mary looked sadly at her husband, but didn't say anything. She knew that he was still in mourning over the loss of his legs and she was as well. But, in the past two weeks, there had been a wonderful change for the better in him. He was at last beginning to realise that he was still a man, despite his physical limitations. Of course, like all veterans, he still had his dark moments, but they were beginning to abate. Mary hoped that they would soon be all but gone.

_Her mind went back to the night, two days after their wedding, when she was awoken by Matthew thrashing his arms about and muttering something she couldn't make out. She had tried to wake him by simply calling his name, as Isobel had warned her about shaking Matthew awake when he was in the middle of a war nightmare. But, simply calling to him hadn't helped. She had had to shake him and had nearly been hit in the process. Once conscious, Matthew had lain perfectly still, quite white, and bathed in a cold sweat._

_"Matthew?" Mary said quite calmly, even though her heart was saying quite the opposite. "Matthew?" She reached forward and carefully brushed a section of hair that had flopped onto his forehead._

_"Mary?" asked Matthew with a sense of unawareness. "W-what happened?"_

_"You had a nightmare, dear," replied Mary, still keeping her calm facade. "It's going to be okay."_

_Matthew nodded mutely, still clearly in shock from the sudden change of environment._

_"Where were you?" There was no response. "Matthew, I want to help you. Please, darling, tell me what happened," Mary practically begged._

_"I can't," said Matthew duly. "You couldn't understand. And … and I can't burden you with … with what I see at night."_

_Mary eyed him skeptically, but said nothing. There would be time later for such conversations. "Very well, dear," she said, still keeping up her presence of calm. "Let me get you out of those pyjamas. They are soaked through."_

_Mary slipped out of the bed and quietly padded across to the dressing room where Matthew's clothes were kept. She quickly found a fresh pair of pyjamas and brought them into the bedroom._

_Matthew had spent the short time she was away in calming himself down and getting into a seated position. He began to unbutton his shirt, but Mary stopped him. "Let me do it tonight," she said softly._

_With some reluctance, Matthew relented. As Mary slipped the soaked pyjama shirt off his shoulders and put the new one in its place, he relished in the soft touches of her hands._

_With a gentle tone, she told him to lay down, and then proceeded to remove his pants, also quite soaked with sweat. Matthew avoided looking at what his wife was doing and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the few tears in his eyes from trickling down his cheeks._

_"Darling?" Mary asked once she had placed the pyjamas on a nearby chair. "Matthew, what's the matter?"_

_Matthew didn't say anything, but kept staring toward the ceiling._

_"Matthew?" repeated Mary. "Matthew, please answer me."_

_For a few seconds, Matthew didn't respond, then he said in a very depressed voice, "I'm sorry, Mary."_

_"Matthew, you can't help having nightmares," Mary replied. "When Papa got back from the Boer War, he sometimes had nightmares."_

_"It's not that darling," said Matthew with a sigh as Mary climbed back into the bed and curled up next to him. "I've tied you down to the very life I didn't want anyone to have to live."_

_"Matthew!" Marry said in a horrified whisper as she sat up ever so slightly. "That isn't true. You know it isn't. You haven't tied me down at all. Remember, 'in sickness and in health'."_

_"But I'm never to get better!" protested Matthew. "You or Mother or a servant is always going to have to take care of me. I'm never going to be able to take care of myself. Never! I've condemned you and many of those I love to a life of drudgery."_

_"Please darling," said Mary quietly, "Even though there is some truth is what you're saying, there is no form of drudgery in any way I look. Matthew, you're my husband. I love you. And you love me. Isn't that enough? I want to help you, to be there for you, because I love you. I know the same is true for your mother, and Mama, Papa, Sybil, Granny, and even Edith."_

_Matthew turned his head away from Mary as a few tears snuck down his face and dampened his pillow. "I know your opinion is going to change," he said flatly. "That may be how you feel now, but it won't be like that in ten years."_

_"It will," Mary retorted firmly. "In ten years, I know our love will be stronger than ever. Matthew, nothing can destroy it. Not if Carlisle publishes and most certainly not your paralysis."_

_At last, Matthew turned to face Mary and saw the sincerity in her eyes. "Darling," he said in a sigh of relief. "How ever would I survive without you?"_

_Mary shrugged her shoulders and at last curled up next to her husband, one arm draped across his chest. Gradually she felt his breathing even and she hoped that he'd get through the rest of the night without waking. She too soon drifted off to sleep._

She was jolted back to the present conversation by a mumbled, "Sorry," from Matthew. She saw him squeeze his thigh yet again in the hopeless hope that he'd feel something, yet knowing he never would. The expression on his face pained her greatly and she reached out and placed her hand on his hand.

He looked up at her face. "How am I going to survive years and years like this?" he asked dejectedly. "How is it possible to survive like this? I've accepted that this is where I'm supposed to be, but I don't know how to live anymore. And I don't know how to begin learning to live again." Matthew wished there was some way to pound this knowledge in his head into his heart and solidify it so as to make it unable to escape again. His life had been a constant series of ups and downs and not matter how hard he tried to conform to the reality of his situation, he still didn't want to fully believe it, even though he had accepted it.

"I don't know," Mary answered gently, "but I know that we'll figure something out. You're a fighter and you'll figure out a way. I promise you."

Matthew smiled wanly and looked away. "I'm not a fighter, Mary," he said. "Honestly, it's due to you, Mother, Sybil, and your father that I've made it this far. It was you four who so often pulled me back from the brink of depression many times. If it hadn't been for all of you…" Matthew let his voice drift off and there was no need for him to finish his sentence.

"I know, my dear," Mary replied softly as she rubbed his back. "But you're here, sound of mind, and my husband. What more can we ask for at the moment?" She knew there was a lot more the two of them could ask for, but in the end, they had each other and nothing would stop that.

Matthew looked lovingly at his wife and beckoned to her. She grinned and promptly sat down in his lap, carefully adjusting her skirt so as not to get caught in the wheels.

Climbing into her husband's lap was a wonderfully special part of their matrimony that had started on their wedding day, though it had happened a few times during their extremely short engagement. It was one way they could act almost like a normal couple when it came to proximity. Oftentimes after dinner, instead of Matthew sitting in his wheelchair next to her spot on the sofa, she'd climb into his lap, no matter the strange looks from her parents and grandmother.

"Oh, my darling," Matthew sighed as he stroked a hand through her hair.

"Matthew!" Mary cried. "You'll muss my hair. And it's nearly time for dinner."

"I could fix it," Matthew protested jokingly.

"Mama would know what we had been up to," replied Mary severely, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Please darling, we need to wait until after dinner."

Matthew relented and a few minutes later they were joined by the rest of the family and proceeded into the dining room.

"How has married life been treating you, son?" inquired Robert from across the table.

"It's only been a little over two weeks, so I'm not quite an expert, but I dare say it's going quite well," Matthew answered calmly. "I think Mary and I do less bickering as a married couple then we did simply as friends."

"You did manage to change from a sea monster into Perseus," said Mary with a laugh.

Matthew glared mockingly at her. "It was either that or this specific sea monster was the hero."

"Will you two always be poking fun of they myth?" asked Sybil. "Or will you choose a new one?"

"Perhaps when we've exhausted all of the jokes, we'll choose a new one," said Matthew. "Does anyone have an idea?"

"What myths involve each lover saving the other instead of simply the man saving the woman?" wondered Edith. "Does such a one exist?"

"Pyramus and Thisbe may fit that category, but do remember, both of them end up dying," said Sybil. "Perhaps you two should read through Ovid's _Metamorphoses_ and decide which myth you want to recreate."

"That's pleasant reading," muttered Matthew dryly. "And half the stories are mentally scarring."

"I'm afraid that is simply the way mythology works," an amused Isobel said. "And perhaps it's time to write your own myth. So many of Ovid's stories end with the characters getting turned into birds or plants. I'd hate to see that happen to either of you."

"Imagine the Earl of Grantham as a dove," laughed Mary.

"Or the Countess as a lily," Matthew teased, earning him a slight swat on the side.

"Please!" begged Sybil through her tears of laughter. "I can't help but envisioning you two as those items in nature. Though, the lily clearly has a hint of brown in its leaves and the dove has a tinge of blond."

"Sybil!" Mary said. "You're going too far with that imagination of yours. And anyway, if we were to take after Pyramus and Thisbe, if we got turned into anything, which doesn't happen in that myth, we'd be turned into a mulberry tree."

"Which I don't fancy," added Matthew with a knowing look at his mother. "Too many games of 'going round the mulberry bush' as a child."

The light talk and laughter continued for quite some time at the dinner table, which was a lovely change from all the dismal conversations of years past.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, the Crawley family journeyed down to the church in the village for the Christmas service. Matthew had always been a regular churchgoer, and was thankful to finally be back in a church service. He had really only been strong enough to come for the last few weeks, but bad weather had prevented the entirety of the Crawley family from making the trip since the wedding. It was a relief for the weather to be decent enough to allow for the Christmas Eve service to be attended.

He had requested to leave several minutes earlier than the rest of the family as he wished to pay his respects to William Mason. Mary guided the wheelchair over the somewhat uneven ground until they came to the grave marked with the simple cross. They were not the only ones there. Kneeling next the grave was Mr Mason, Williams's father. When he saw the couple approaching, he had risen to his feet. "Good evening, Mr Crawley, Lady Mary," he said quietly.

"Good evening, Mr Mason," replied Matthew. "Is it alright if we join you?"

A subtle nod was given in response and they all gathered close to the grave marker. Matthew reached out and gently touched the cross as he looked down at the inscription. This was his first time ever visiting Williams's grave. He had been prevented from doing so, first by his injuries and then by the weather. "William," he said in a low voice, "thank you. There's been so many times that I wished you hadn't made the sacrifice you did, but now … now I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Mary and I, we got married last month. I thought you'd like to know." Matthew paused for a few moments, then began again, "I wish we both had made it. William, I saw you as a friend. During the time we served together, we were always there for each other. If… If you had lived, I… I would have made you my valet." With a sigh, Matthew rested his head in his hands. Then he felt his shoulders begin to shake as he finally allowed himself to mourn Williams's passing.

Mary, who had stepped back to allow Matthew his privacy when he began to speak, stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Matthew quickly shook his head and jerked his shoulder out from under Mary's touch. He didn't need her comfort right now. He simply needed to be with his own thoughts. To Mary, William had been a footman, but to him, the young man had been a friend and fellow soldier.

As Mary pushed him in towards their pew (the narrowness of the aisle making this a necessity) he could feel the glances in their direction. He wondered as to whether they more had to do with his physical appearance or Mary's story. At the moment, it didn't matter and a glance at Mary once they were settled told him that she was once again having the pretense of being the ice queen. He reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze right before the minister came up and asked the congregation to stand for a hymn. Matthew had never felt quite so out-of-place as he was at that particular moment. But the feeling quickly passed as he knew one could worship just as well from a sitting position as from a standing one.

As the congregation began to sing _Silent Night_, his mind drifted back to the last time he had heard that song.

_He had been wrapped up in a blanket trying to get a bit of sleep while he could as it was quiet. It was an oddity, but a very much welcomed one. Suddenly he was awakened by a young private who urgently said in a low whisper, "Lisiten, Lieutenant Crawley."_

_Matthew sat up and listened. He could barely make out a familiar tune, but the words certainly weren't. "What?" he asked._

_"The Germans are singing Silent Night!" exclaimed Private Johnson, still in a whisper._

_The next thing the happened, no one could believe. They saw a few German soldiers raise above the trenches a sign that read 'YOU NO FIGHT. WE NO FIGHT.' Then, a few soldiers rose above the edge of the trench raising a white flag._

_Matthew looked at the advancing party curiously, then a few soldiers from his company scrambled out of their trench, also with a white flag. The two groups met in the middle of no-man's-land and began to talk. Gradually many more soldiers from both sides advanced to the middle and eventually Matthew found himself among them. He could barely believe that he was in the middle of no-man's-land on Christmas Eve taking with a German soldier who had to be several years younger than he was. There had been something that resembled a present exchange and he had ended up with a rather large sausage that was immensely enjoyed._

_At some point during the morning, someone had made a football out of some crumpled paper and an old burlap sack. The next several hours felt like he was back at university playing with some friends on a free afternoon._

_The truce had lasted the entire day and it had been somewhat difficult to go back to the trenches and start firing again, knowing that on the other side there were men and boys their own age. Of course, it hadn't taken very long for reason to overrule sentimentality, and by the next day, the war was continuing as if nothing had happened._

"Matthew," someone whispered in his ear, jolting him back to reality. "Matthew," the same person whispered again.

He looked up and saw that it was Mary. She was looking at him with a concerned expression on her face. "Is everything alright?" she asked in a low whisper. "You looked like you were far away."

"I'm fine," Matthew assure his wife and for once, that statement was actually true. "I was just remembering the last time I heard that song: during the Christmas truce."

Mary nodded in understanding and turned her attention back to the music, the choir having moved on to sing _The First Noël_.

This time, Matthew forced his mind to stay in the present and focus on what the words meant.

Before too much longer, the singing was finished, and the minister began the message. Like all Christmas Eve services, the message concentrated on the story of Christ's according to the gospel of Luke. As Matthew listened to the age old story, it began to come alive in his mind.

Before long, the sermon was over and the choir had once again stepped up. The congregation rose to their feet and concluded the service with singing _Hark the Herald Angels Sing._

As the Crawley's and the rest of the congregation excited the church, Matthew looked up into the black sky, dotted with stars. He found himself picking out several constellations, having learned them from a young private who had been an astronomy student. _What had happened to the lad?_ wondered Matthew. He knew that Private Fintly had been at Amiens, but Matthew didn't know any more than that. Once the holidays were over, he'd talk to Robert about how best to get in touch with the surviving members of his company. Matthew didn't even know who had succeeded him as captain, and considering the rate junior officers had been killed at, chances were many men had led the same company he had.

"Matthew, where are you?" asked a somewhat worried Mary.

"Just thinking," answered Matthew, half turning around so as to look up at his wife. "It's so quiet and peaceful here. I'm still amazed at what calm is."

"It's a change for anyone returning from any war," Robert said in a low voice. "It took me a long time to get back into something that resembled a normal life and there still is the occasional time when I'll find myself back in Africa. But, let's not think of such things at the moment. It's Christmas Eve and the Great War is over."

Matthew nodded in agreement and sank back into his silent reverie. There was much to be thankful for this Christmas, that was certain, but it was to be a somber Christmas as well. Families across the world would celebrate this holiday with a mixture of joy and sorrow. So many lives had been lost and many families had been torn apart. But, the knowledge that the imperialists had been destroyed and that nothing of such destruction could ever occur again brought great comfort to Matthew.

"Captain Crawley?" someone suddenly asked, prompting Mary to stop pushing the wheelchair.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering who in Downton would know him. Had there been Downton men in his company? The chances were fairly high, and even though he had known many of the back stories of the original men in his company, by the end of the war, he had only known a few.

"Captain, it's Private Fintly," said the young soldier, now stepping fully into view.

"Fintly?" Matthew cried in disbelief as he craned his neck trying to get a good look. Mary chose this time to leave, having an idea that Matthew would want to have this conversation alone.

"Yes, sir," said Fintly, giving a salute.

"At ease," said Matthew, for want of anything else to say and continued. "I didn't know you were a Downton man."

"I'm not," Fintly replied. "My mum's parents are though, and I'm visiting them for the holidays."

Matthew nodded in understanding. "How are you, lad?" he asked. "I'm glad to see you made it through in one piece."

Fintly let out a slight laugh. "Mostly one piece," he corrected. "A bit of shrapnel hit me on the side of my face at Cambrai. Took out a bit of my face and one eye." In the dim light, Matthew could just make out the outline of an eyepatch that covered Fintly's right eye and part of that side of his face. "I'm just thankful I can still see the stars," continued Fintly. "I don't think I could bear to live and not see anything."

Again, Matthew nodded. "Lad," he said with a forlorn smile. "I'm afraid I have to go. The women have been waiting in the card for some time. We will have to meet up with each other while you're still around."

"Yes, sir, Captain," replied Fintly with a salute. "Just contact me at my grandparents. Name's McPierce."

"I will do that, Private Fintly," said Matthew. "It might not happen until after New Years, but it will happen."

"Thank you, sir," Fintly said, "And Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Matthew replied. Then he slowly wheeled himself through the gently falling snow to the car.

Branson and Moseley climbed down and helped him to his seat. And, after attaching his wheelchair to the rear of the car, he proceeded home.

"Who was that?" inquired Robert, the only one in the car with him. Cora and the other women had already gone in the car with Pratt, who had returned after taking Violet and Isobel to their homes. Matthew hadn't known this, but he should have suspected it.

"A private from my company," Matthew replied. "He's the grandson of the McPierce family here at Downton."

"Ah," said Robert. "And he recognized you?"

"Yes. I didn't recognize him at first," Matthew said. "He didn't join my company until late 1917 and the McPierce's are his mother's parents, so I never made a connection to Downton and he never mentioned one."

"He certainly seems like a nice young man," mused Robert.

"He is," Matthew responded. "And incredibly smart as well. Before the war, he was studying astronomy and I'm certain he'll get back into it as soon as he is able to."

By this time, they had pulled up to the Abbey. The wheelchair was brought around and Matthew placed in it. Robert gently pushed the wheelchair into the foyer of the house, and after a quick wipe-down of the wheels by a young hall-boy, Matthew wheeled himself towards his and Mary's room. He found her sitting at her vanity with Anna gently brushing the long, dark tresses.

"Thank you, Anna," said Mary quietly. "That will be all."

"Very well, milady," replied Anna as she gave a quick curtsy. "Happy Christmas, Lady Mary, Mr Crawley."

"Who was the young man you were talking to after church?" inquired Mary as she adjusted the shoulders of her dressing gown.

"A private who had been in my company," Matthew answered as he made his way to his dressing room to change. "He's visiting his mother's parents who live on the estate."

About fifteen minutes later, Matthew was back in the bedroom. Moseley helped him onto the bed and Matthew carefully pulled his legs up and after adjusting them into a position that would not cause him to lay down at an angle, he pulled up the covers on his side of the bed. Mary, who had been behind a dressing curtain whilst Moseley was in the room, came out he was making his final adjustments.

"Was it a surprise to meet …" Mary's voice trailed off as she realised she didn't know the discharged soldier's name.

"Fintly," supplied Matthew. "Private James Fintly."

"Ah," said Mary. "Well, was it a surprise to meet him?"

"Yes," Matthew answered. "But a very pleasant one. He's a nice lad and I'm thankful to know he survived the war, and it was mostly unscahted."

"What happened to him?"

"In the last major battle of the war, don't know when in the battle, he got hit in the face with some shrapnel and lost his right eye," Matthew said rather slowly. Even though the injury was minor compared with many, it still was a life-altering one, unlike others, which might simply leave a scar or perhaps a minor limp.

"How ghastly," shuddered Mary, "but that is all?"

Matthew nodded. "He's thankful to be alive and that he still has sight. Fintly was studying astronomy at university and I'm certain he plans on continuing his studies. I hope he does. During the last winter, he taught me and several of the other lads many of the constellations."

As Mary got into bed, she said, "Would you like to invite him, and any other local boys from your company, to tea sometime after New Years?"

"Would I!" said Matthew. "Mary, I wanted to ask you that, but I didn't know if you would agree."

"Matthew, if you had asked me a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, I would have said know," Mary admitted. "But, I've changed and I'm married to a veteran. Naturally, I want to meet some of the men you were in the company of for the last several years."

"So few of those I knew at the beginning of the war survived," Matthew said slowly and in a barely audible voice. "Almost three-fourths of the men in my company were new to it when I was injured. Of the remaining fourth, only a handful of those men were there from the beginning of the war. Some of them were switched to other companies or regiments, but most of them were killed."

Mary sat there, listening to her husband in silence. So rarely did he open up and speak so candidly about the war, that she never wished to stop him when he did begin to speak. She had been told that talking was one of the best ways of healing and through seeing the change of men in the convalescent home and in Matthew himself, she knew it to be true.

"I wonder, was the war worth it?" asked Matthew flatly. "All of the lives lost. The countless men, women, and children on both sides: dead, injured, forever changed. There is going to be no way of knowing the numbers for years, perhaps never, but it is in the millions and well into them."

"I-I don't know," Mary stuttered. "I would like to think that yes, it was worth it, but so much of it was simply alliances: countries getting into the fight simply because a country they allied with was attacked."

"Do you think England should have left France in the lurch?" Matthew said sternly.

"Goodness, no!" cried a horrified Mary, "I just wish it hadn't escalated to the scale it was fought at."

"That is something I agree with," Matthew sighed. "I'm praying that Woodrow Wilson is right, and this war is a 'war to end all wars'. If the world truly is a better place after this war, then yes, I believe the sacrifice was worth it. It would have to be. Yes, imperialism was beaten, but what if something worse should rise up from the ashes?"

"Even if there was a fragment of the imperialistic way left, it will take decades for the flame to rekindle," assured Mary. "And I don't want to have a conversation like this on Christmas Eve. It's too dismal. I think it's safe to say that this Christmas is going to be one of the best Christmases ever. You're here, Papa, Mama, Sybil, Edith, Granny, Isobel, even Aunt Rosamund, are all here. At last, after all those dreadful Christmases of wondering if the line was holding, we know we were victorious and that is a cause worth celebrating."

Matthew smiled somberly and nodded in agreement. Mary reached up and turned out the light, then she curled up beside Matthew. She hooked one leg around his, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. Matthew had practically begged her to not avoid his senseless areas and rubbing her leg against his brought a feeling of pleasure she desperately wished Matthew could know. He wanted her to have it, she knew that, but after only a few minutes, a guilty feeling of pleasure caused her to adjust her position. Soon, her head found a place on Matthew's chest and as she fell asleep, Matthew gently combed her long hair with his fingers, relishing in the soft touch.

For several minutes he was like that: calm and serene. Mary was right, there was a cause for celebration. It seemed wrong to be celebrating when so much of the world was suffering, but he was home. He had survived the war. Some of his friends had survived. Those were all causes worth celebrating. And even his friends who had died, he knew he would see them again and that currently, they were in an eternal moment of celebration. With these thoughts, he drifted off to sleep, his fingers still tangled in Mary's hair.

* * *

**_mngirl: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you'll enjoy the many adventures that follow (not all of which I know)._**

**_Hogfan: Thanks for the review. And yes, there isn't exactly an appropriate word that can be used to describe Carlisle. I have a few ideas up my sleeve for how to resolve this part of the storyline. As for the final bit of your review, there's nothing I can say at the moment._**


	3. New Beginnings

_**A/N Sorry it's taken so long to update, but this was a harder chapter to write, mainly because it's more of a filler one. Also, this semester of college has been really **_**_hectic, so I haven't gotten much time for editing. Hopefully the next few chapters won't take this long to get up as they should be mostly written._**

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. Matthew lay in bed next to his wife of just a month. One arm of hers was under her head, the other draped across his chest. Her position had changed during the night, though clearly his hadn't. Matthew shifted his body as best he could and managed to get into a position that somewhat resembled laying on his side. He wrapped one arm around Mary and pulled her close to him. "Good morning darling," he whispered in her ear. "Happy Christmas."

Mary blinked open her eyes and stared into the clear blue eyes that belonged to her husband. "Happy Christmas, darling," she replied, moving her hand that had been on his chest and gently rubbed his back.

Matthew relished the feeling of Mary. He was so limited in where he could feel her, that anywhere she touched and he felt it, was wonderful.

"Are you ready for the day?" Mary asked.

"Our first Christmas as a married couple," Matthew sighed. "And my first Christmas at Downton since 1913." In all the years he had been around Downton, this was only to be his second Christmas at the Abbey. Christmas of 1912 had been spent in Manchester and the Christmases of 1914-1917 had been spent on the front line.

"We'll make it the best," Mary answered with a murmur. She pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed. "Would you like help this morning?"

Matthew eased himself into a seated position. Over the past month he had been working on getting up and dressed with the minimum amount of help. If his clothing was laid out within reach, he could entirely dress and undress himself except for his shoes. There was a slim chance that would happen someday though. It was simply a matter of being able to move his legs into a convenient position for doing such an action. Getting in and out of the wheelchair still proved to be a challenge though. He had finally gotten to the point where he could get off the bed and into the chair on his own, (Mary still insisted that someone be in the room with him as he could injure himself with the throwing movement such an achievement came with) but not vise versa.

"If you could get a suit out, that would be wonderful," he replied. Normally, he would simply get into his wheelchair and go to the dressing room in order for Moseley to help him with what was needed, but because he technically didn't need his valet's help in the morning, Matthew had given him the day off until the dinner-gong rang.

Mary went to the wardrobe in his dressing room and selected a morning suit. "This will do for the private family celebrations," she said as she came back in, "but you'll need to do white tie and tails for the Christmas dinner this evening and then for the Servants' Ball at New Years Eve."

Matthew silently nodded. He had forgotten there was a ball in a few days and suddenly it struck him that he and Mary never could dance together. It hadn't hit him at their wedding as there had been no dancing, but to be by a dance floor without being able to take his wife on to it would be a grievance indeed. He struggled to remember the last time they had danced together. Surely there had been a time after Sybil's ball, but as he clearly couldn't remember one, he sadly resigned himself to knowing that Sybil's ball was the last time they had ever danced together.

"Matthew, are you alright?" Mary inquired, noticing a look that somewhat represented despair etching its way into her husband's face.

"Yes, my dear, I'm fine," Matthew answered as he slowly began to change. Mary watched her husband from a short distance, ready to help if he needed it.

As he slipped his shirt off, multiple injuries from the war appeared. There were several pale scars all over his torso and Mary knew some of them extended further down. She had seen all of them in their entirety: had traced her fingers down each and every one, even the ones on his lifeless legs. By far the worst, was the large, bruise-like scar that began in the lower-middle section of his back and extended all the way down before disappearing into his trousers. It had lightened in colour over the months, but was still extremely visible and Clarkson had said it would most likely always be visible.

Before too much longer, Matthew was dressed and Mary brought the wheelchair to the side of the bed. She applied the brake and held the wheelchair steady while Matthew swung himself into it. Matthew had been so pleased when he had finally been able to get into his wheelchair practically unassisted. It was a small sign that he was improving, but he had a sinking feeling though that soon he'd be as improved as was possible and would reach a plateau.

Once he was settled, he proceeded to wheel to the dining room and left Mary to get ready with Anna. Mary rarely are breakfast in bed, often because she would get up to help Matthew and the covers no longer looked very tempting. She soon arrived in the dining room and joined her father, husband, and sisters at the breakfast table.

"This will be the first Christmas season since 1913 that there is the Servants Ball," Edith said as she cut her sausage. "It's going to be lovely to go back to the tradition."

"But it will be different," Mary said gently. "It's much smaller than previous years, but I think I shall prefer it. Large balls were quite nice during the season, but the holiday balls are much nicer when one can be more intimate with the guests."

"It will be wonderful to watch," Matthew said in a slightly depressed tone. Mary looked at him curiously, but didn't say anything. If something was truly bothering him, he'd tell her. She had learned that sometimes it was better not to press him. However, she did have a feeling that the issue had to do with dancing, and that was entirely understandable. Perhaps they shouldn't host the Servant's Ball this winter, but it had been so long and nearly everyone in the area was looking forward to it.

Not much happened that morning. Rather, the Crawley family spent the day relaxing, reading, and chatting amongst each other until about luncheon, when Carson, Anna, and a few other servants brought up the trays of food and set them on the table alongside the wall in the small library.

Despite the calm nature of Christmas that day compared to previous Christmases Matthew had experienced, it was the best Christmas yet for him. The sheer calmness of the occasion was enough for Matthew as so many of his past Christmases had been spent at the front lines. He had been one of those unlucky blokes who had never gotten a leave over Christmas. And, except for the truce in the first year of the war, the other Christmases had involved some type of fighting.

Once the luncheon was served, they all gathered in the small library where the Christmas tree had been set up. It was much smaller than it usually was, but Matthew still feasted his eyes in it. The green of the tree, the colourful balls, and the twinkling candles was a sight to behold.

Before long, everyone was in the room and the present exchange began. Like everything else about that day, if was smaller than what it had been before the war, but it was still an abundance of wonderfulness.

Matthew sat next to Mary and watched with joy the loving ceremony as the gifts (which mainly included an abundance of books and other small items) were exchanged.

That night at dinner, Matthew dressed in white tie for the first time in years. Yes, he had done so once or twice on leave, but it wasn't like this where white tie for fancy occasions was normal. He remembered how strange it was the first time he had worn such a suit soon after arriving at Downton. Over the years, he had gotten used to such ways of dress, but now he was almost back to the beginning. Well, at least he knew how to hold his fork like a gentleman and wouldn't be getting any flack from Mary for that. The memory brought a flash of a smile for a moment, but it faded almost as quickly as it had come. That memory was from a time long ago. A time when the world still seemed as if it was almost perfect; a time when he could walk; a time before he and Mary loved each other.

Moseley carefully arranged his tie, then handed him his cufflinks, which he slipped on and Moseley fastened . The dinner went fairly smoothly, though it was a bit on the quiet end. Too much had happened for it to be an entirely cheerful meal, but it was clear this everyone was relieved. For the first time in many years, the family was together again at Christmas and there was a reason to be joyful again. There was still a touch of sorrow because even though their family was still whole, so many other families had been ripped apart.

A few days later on New Years Eve, the Servant's Ball was held. It hadn't happened since before the war and was a joyous occasion on some levels and a somber one on others.

However, Matthew was dreading it. He stiffly allowed Moseley to help him into his white tie suit and carefully wheeled himself to the library to wait for the rest of the family. The only consolation he had was that there would be several other men at the ball who couldn't dance as all of the remaining convalescents were invited. Granted, none of them were married, or if they were, their wives weren't about.

Dinner went fairly well, but it wasn't until the ball afterwards that Matthew felt strikingly out of place. He wheeled himself to near the dance floor and stopped. He didn't want to watch the dancers, but at the same time, he couldn't take his eyes off them. He could feel the frustration building up in him and he tried to quench it, but it wouldn't leave. Absentmindedly he began to sway to the rhythm and his fingers beat out the tempo in his lap. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath once he realised what he was doing. Every feeling inch of his body wanted to get out on the dance floor, but as he glanced down at the contraption that held him captive and told him he'd never dance again. He banged his fist into his thigh in an effort to calm down, but it didn't succeed.

At that point, Mary at last came over to him. She had been mingling with a few of the guests merely out of politeness, but she had seen the distress in Matthew's eyes and knew that if she didn't get over there soon, Matthew was going to break down. As she knelt down in front of him, she took his clenched fist and gently uncurled the fingers as she gently held his hand between both of hers.

"Mary," Matthew murmured and with his free hand, he stroked her arm. There was something so calming about the mere presence of his wife.

"Is this what was bothering you the other day?" Mary asked simply.

Matthew nodded. It seemed so silly to be so devastated over the loss of this activity, but he was. There wasn't a variation he could do from a wheelchair and there wasn't a way dance could be adapted to fit him. "I'll never dance with you, love," he said in a low voice.

"We'll work it out," Mary stated. "There's has to be something we can do."

"No, there isn't," retorted Matthew as he blinked tears out of his eyes. "Some activities I know I can do with specialized equipment, but dancing isn't one of those. Now please, go and have some fun."

Mary gave her husband one last worried glance, but did as he had asked. She wanted to stay by his side, but there wasn't any point in arguing with him. However, there wasn't much of a chance of her fully obeying what he had said. She couldn't truly have fun with her husband sitting on the sidelines watching the activities dejectedly. But, she would do her best because it was what he wanted.

Edward was standing balanced on his crutches next to Matthew. There was a strange, determined look in his eyes. "You're not going to try dancing, are you?" Matthew asked his friend rather skeptically.

"I might," Edward replied. "I've got one leg that's as fit as a fiddle."

"Shouldn't you just wait for your wooden leg before trying?" wondered Matthew matter-of-factly. Edward had been lucky enough to still have his right knee, meaning a wooden leg had a high chance of working. He had recently been measured for it and was simply waiting for the delivery.

"That might be smarter," sighed Edward and he sat down on a chair next to Matthew. "So, how's married life treating you?"

"It's a joy," said Matthew. "I love waking up each morning next to the love of my life."

"Have you figured out how to, uh, make love?"

Matthew looked slightly uncomfortable and a tiny bit amused, but replied, "Yes, and you're not getting the details."

He reached down, released the brake, and began to make his way to the door. He needed to leave the room. He had thought he'd be able to watch the ball, but it wasn't a possibility. He needed to get away. He didn't care where, but he simply couldn't watch any longer.

As Matthew made his way along the edge of the dance floor, he came across Daisy. She too was prevented from dancing, but it was because of her mourning status. "Hello, Daisy," he said gently, startling the young kitchen maid.

"Mr Crawley!" she said in a bit of a flutter. "Good evening, sir."

"And the same to you," Matthew replied. "How are doing?"

Daisy eyed him with a degree of scrutiny, as if trying to see if the question was genuine or merely politeness. Deciding it to be the former, she replied, "As well as can be expected, Mr Crawley. "I do miss him."

"As do we all," said a solemn Matthew. "He was a good lad, one of the best. And one of the nicest comrades I ever had while serving."

"Honestly, Mr Crawley?" asked Daisy in awe. She could hardly believe her ears that Mr Crawley, the future Earl of Grantham, could speak so highly of William, who had simply been a servant in the house.

"I speak the truth, Daisy," Matthew assured. "And Daisy, don't spend the rest of your life in mourning and wondering if you did the right action. You're far too young for that sort of life."

"Y-yes sir," stuttered a surprised Daisy. She scurried away and left Matthew to continue on his way.

He managed to exit the ballroom without seeing anyone else he wished to talk to. Before much longer, he was in the small library. Matthew stopped next to a window and looked out at the falling snow. It looked so beautiful from here, but he remembered that not too long ago, snow was one of the worst things that could happen. It made everything extremely cold and wet and fighting in the snow was terrible. He shivered at the memory and tried to dismiss it as quickly as possible. From behind, he heard the sound of a door opening and closing as well was footsteps approaching.

He looked up and caught a glimpse of his visitor in the reflection the window offered. "Robert," he murmured as his father-in-law stood next to him. He turned his head and looked up at his older cousin.

"Matthew, is something wrong?" Robert inquired as he pulled up nearby chair and sat down. "I saw you leave the ballroom in a hurry."

"No, nothing's wrong," Matthew answered with a shake of his head. He couldn't tell Robert his reason for leaving. He knew now that it was a silly one. Watching the dancing shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did.

Robert eyed Matthew somewhat skeptically, but didn't say anything for a few moments. Then suddenly, he understood what his son-in-law's problem was. "My lad," he began slowly, "I'm sorry. I should have realised what the dance would do to you."

"It's my fault," Matthew responded quickly, as he tried to avoid looking into Robert's eyes. "I shouldn't have let it bother me."

"Matthew, it's perfectly understandable why you felt the way you did," answered Robert gently. "You don't need to be ashamed."

"I wasn't ashamed," Matthew responded flatly. "I simply … was … sorrowful… angry. Robert, I can't even dance with my wife, let alone do most everything else involved in a marriage." Properly, he added to himself.

"My lad," sighed Robert, grateful to know some of the problem, but greatly worried as to how to help. He knew he wasn't aware, and probably never would be, of all the implications Matthew's injury had, but he had a feeling he should have at least realised what had a high chance of happening this evening. "Is there anything I can do?"

Matthew shook his head dismally. "No, what happened tonight is simply something I need to get used to. I don't know if I ever can though." He looked down in his lap and continued, "I can't believe that so much has happened so quickly. Life cannot continue on at this pace, can it?"

"I doubt it," Robert answered. "The world will regain some sense of normality, though what that will look like is beyond me. But, hopefully Downton can go back to being the peaceful and calm community that it has nearly always been."

"I could do with some peace and quiet," sighed Matthew. "But that won't happen for some time. Between the war, the newspaper article, marriage, and my accident, I'll never find a moment's peace."

"You'll find it," Robert assured. "And, unless you would prefer to ring in the new year here, we ought to head for the ballroom. The dancing will have stopped by now and the champagne should be coming out soon."

"Very well," said Matthew and he bent down to release the brake. Robert followed him as the both of them headed back to the ballroom.

"Matthew!" cried Mary as she hurried towards the two of them. "Where did you go?"

"The library," he answered. "I needed to get away. Mary, you know how much I enjoyed dancing, and tonight, the reality that I never will dance again, especially never dance with you, struck me."

Mary knelt down in front of her husband, and held one of his hands between hers. "Matthew, I know that this new reality hurts you. It hurts me too, but we will work through this. There will be something we can come up with at some point."

"No, Mary," Matthew answered. "There isn't anything that can be done about balls. I'll always be sitting on the sidelines. But, I'd rather not discuss this right now. I want to ring in the new year without being in the middle of an argument with my wife."

At that moment, Carson entered with the champagne. "Here you are, my lord," he said as he placed it on the side table.

"Thank you, Carson, I think that will be all," said Robert.

Soon, everyone had their champagne in hand and were gathered about the ballroom mingling with each other. Mary had seated herself next to Matthew and they were sitting in silence. Tom and Sybil were talking in a corner, though no one noticed, or if they did, nothing was thought of it at the moment.

As the clock struck midnight, everyone gathered in the centre of the room.

"1919," Robert said. "What will this year bring us?"

"1918 brought us victory and I pray that 1919 will bring the world recovery," said Matthew quietly.

"And hopefully back to normal," added Violet.

"Granny, it's not going to be normal," Sybil responded. "There is going to be a different normal as there is no chance of the world returning to how it was before the war."

"That may be, Sybil, but there isn't a need for it to be entirely different," Cora continued. "At least, I hope our house can regain most of what used to be normal."

"Do you honestly want to go back to simply sitting around, making calls, and sewing samplers?" asked a horrified Sybil. "For the first time in my life, I felt useful serving as a nurse. Edith, and didn't you feel the same between helping the Drakes and here in the convalescent home?"

"Yes," Edith answered simply, "but Sybil, Granny and Mama are right to an extent. There will be some return to normalcy, but there also will be change. For one, no one is going to stop me from driving."

"Edith!" cried Cora. "There is no longer any need for that to happen."

"But I feel useful when I do," Edith retorted. "And I want to continue to feel useful."

"As do we all," said Robert, trying to break up the ensuing argument. "Let's not begin 1919 with a family disagreement."

"I'm certain we'll all discover some way that we are useful," sighed Matthew. "Even if it appears we aren't."

Mary looked at her husband in surprise. For so long she and others had been telling him that he wasn't useless, but this was the first time that he had vocalized that he wasn't useless.

"We'll all find something," Sybil agreed, vocalizing what she knew many of them were thinking.

"This will be a year of change," agreed Mary. "But hopefully it is all good change."

LIttle did everyone know the extent of the changes that would be happening in the next year. Many of them would be good and happy ones, but there were dark times ahead as well. The coming year would test all of them, but in the end, the Crawley family would be stronger because of it.

* * *

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. There are lots of twists in the story that are ahead, not all of which I know of. :D**_

_**teapot: Glad you're enjoying it so far.**_


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